The Price of Winning
by Silesia
Summary: What if? Gaheris Rahde, the manipulation of time, and how to cheat to win. Chaptered, complete.
1. Inside a Single Second

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The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Author's Note: This is a 'what if?' story. It stems around the question, 'What would have happened if Rahde had won the fight in the first episode, instead of Dylan?' I think you need to have seen the first episode, to understand this.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, and I'm not writing this for any gain, financial or otherwise.

****

The Price of Winning

Part One: Inside a Single Second

_I am Rahde, and I am about to die._

Even as he thought the words, the _Andromeda's _traitorous second-in-command could feel himself fading away. It infuriated him. He was a winner, an alpha. True, he had many wives, who had already given him many children, but he still had leagues of future offspring he had yet to sire. He _couldn't_ die now. His DNA was simply too important to be eliminated so prematurely.

Rahde watched his captain with his last gaze. Despite the Nietzchean's anger at death, he had never before been more proud of Captain Dylan Hunt. It was rather perverse, for a final emotion.

Then, his captain froze.

Something was happening. The entire universe had simply halted. Or perhaps it was only that _he_ was thinking, and being, faster than the entire universe.

Rahde mentally shrugged the thought away, right before the truth hit him; they were in a black hole. Time had stopped! But then- why wasn't he frozen? Why could he still think, still experience?

And why wasn't he dead?

But of course, that answer was so obvious. _Time. Had. Stopped._ His very last breath was being held in his body by the anomaly- and it would take him over three-hundred years to die.

He might have dwelled on that dismal notion for a small eternity, but his thoughts stalled. How had he known it would be three-hundred years until they escaped the black hole? 

Then, he felt them: strings of time.

They were everywhere, like scattered, tangled threads of every different era, but he couldn't see them. It was more that he could sense them. He was trapped within a single second, but the very relative nature of time meant that one second could seem like infinity.

Rahde's mind grasped one of the loose yarns that seemed to be everywhere, and suddenly, the future was open to him. A future that, for Rahde, wouldn't continue for three more centuries. And, once it proceeded, it would end, and he would die. But Hunt would live on. Oh, how it _rankled!_

But- if the future was open to him, then...so was the past.

Rahde watched the fight he'd just lost- the _only_ one he'd _ever_ lost. It was he and Dylan, jumping from each others' shots, preparing to shoot again.

And suddenly, they were _there,_ again, in that moment. In that fight. Rahde didn't have the luxury of time to marvel that he'd time-traveled- he was too busy surviving.

Captain Hunt shot at him, and Commander Rahde shot at Hunt, and they leapt to avoid the crossfire. But _this _time- this _time_- Rahde didn't leap quite as far, and the bolt harmlessly passed his arm. No lethal hit. 

Not this time.

When Rahde shot his weapon, he leveled his aim so that the blast would go lower than he wanted it to, remembering that, in another time, it had sailed over the top of the High Guard Captain.

And now, Captain Hunt was hit in the heart, and he crumpled to the ground.

The bridge fell silent. The sounds of automatic repair, and of alarms, suddenly halted. The flashing lights froze. And then, a low, keening sound, like a bitersweet siren, echoed across the entire ship. Commander Rahde frowned. _What the...?_

Then he realized- _Andromeda_. She was grieving, in shock, and thiswas her anguish.

Rahde didn't understand it. Why did she care? She was just a _ship_.

Then, they were firmly caught in the black hole, and time froze. He didn't feel time, moving around him, not again. He didn't feel anything at all. He was held in the anomaly, just the same as the ship and her scream.

So, for three hundred years, _Andromeda_ and her sole occupant perched frozen in space, the ship emitting a sound that, if picked up on the sensors of passing vessels, sounded oddly like a woman's sobs.

And outside the black hole, time, as it must, moved on.

TBC...


	2. After the Centuries...

****

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Disclaimer in Part One

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, peoples!

Enjoy!

****

The Price of Winning

Part Two: After the Centuries...

"Hurry _up!"_

Captain Beka Valentine sighed resignedly, then turned toward the ugly Nightsider. "_Look. _You hired me because I'm the only one desperate enough to try this and slick enough to pull it off. Now _back off_, and let me do my job." She shifted again to face front. "I've got a screaming ship to bring in."

Gerentex snorted- a sound decidedly silly, and fairly disgusting. "The ship screams? That's just an old myth," he scoffed.

Beka had thought so, too, before arriving near the black hole. Of course, she had no intention of telling her annoying employer that. 

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?" With her left hand, she pressed a series of small buttons, and an open link came over the comm. "Then...what's that?"

Seamus Harper, Trance Gemini, and Rev Bem all stepped forward, drawn by the sound coming through the link. It was hauntingly tragic, a low, continuous wail. Probably, it was just a red alert that had been blaring when the ship had been trapped, but few had ever disagreed that it sounded like someone weeping. People of all species had avoided this area of space for three centuries, unnerved by the sound. 

They were all a little uneasy. "That," Beka said, trying to answer her own, earlier question lightly, "is the sound that every being on Saraglia will make when you get there, Harper."

"It _does_ sound like a woman crying," Gerentex sneered, irritated at having been proved wrong. "And you'll all sound the same if I can't get this ship to my buyer on time. Get back to work." He stormed from the _Maru's_ small bridge, but none of them rushed to follow their absent employee's orders. They remained still, listening to the vessel that three hundred years of exploring space-men had dubbed the Screaming Ship. Then Trance spoke.

"I wonder what happened to her," she whispered. No one questioned the usage of the word _her_, as opposed to _it. _

"She carries a great sorrow," Rev answered, his somber, gravely voice oddly soothing. "But we have no way of knowing it."

"We could always ask her," Harper cut in. The others looked at him in surprise, and he began to explain. "When people say, _they don't make 'em like they use to anymore_, they're talking about ships like the _Andromeda_. So let me tell you about the screaming ship..."

* * *

Commander Rahde flinched, and knew that the time distortion had occurred. He had a feeling- call it a hunch- that it had been about three-hundred years since last he'd had the opportunity to blink. Still, he wanted to confirm it.

"_Andromeda_? Name approximate date."

The ship kept on weeping.

"_Andromeda!_ The date!"

Without warning, the gravity where he stood grew so great that he collapsed to the floor. He attempted to scold the _Andromeda_, but even his jaw was too heavy to move, so he just lay there. 

At long last, she released the unnatural gravity, and he lifted his head.

The _Andromeda's_ hologram stood above the deceased captain, her eyes red, but not wet. Gradually, her ship-wide weeping faded, too, until the entire vessel was utterly, completely quiet. The sound of silence was as unnerving as her earlier weeping had been. _Andromeda_ knelt down.

Her hand reached out slowly, almost tentatively, in a motion ready to close Hunt's unseeing eyes. Her fingers, however, passed clear through him. _Andromeda's _holographic head bowed over the dead body, her arms wrapped around her stomach, as if trying to withhold fresh tears.

Suddenly, the sensors came out of the stillness that her systems were slowly emerging from, and she could detect that more life-forms were on-board. She tried to move her grief aside, and analyze them.

They weren't crew-members who, for some reason, hadn't taken escape pods. They were strangers.

_Andromeda_ knew, then, that they were the ones who had brought her from the black hole. And they probably hadn't done it for sweet, old-fashioned, Good Samaritan reasons. They were probably a threat.

_Andromeda _smiled. It was not a nice smile.

She wouldn't tell the commander about their...visitors. Rahde could deal with them on his own. She stood up, her holographic back ramrod-straight, her odd, humorless smile still in place, and her expression coldly proud. Rahde, on the floor, watched her as she slowly allowed her hologram to disappear.

He rose, and stood on his conquered bridge, alone.

TBC...


	3. Then, they meet

****

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Enjoy!

Disclaimer in part one

****

The Price of Winning

Part Three: Then, they meet

Harper cringed as Gerentex's disgustingly slimy voice hissed, "Are you done _yet?_"

The _Maru's_ crew had boarded the _Andromeda_, and Harper's colleagues were exploring the ship, trying to discern if there was reason to worry about what, or who, they may meet. Or rather, that's what they'd _been_ doing. Trance had become enthralled by the _Andromeda's _plants, and Gerentex had apparently decided to harass Harper.

He was trying to rewire the ship's peripheral system, but there were blocks _everywhere. _He made progress, slowly, but the work was intricate and difficult.

"Hurry up," Gerentex demanded in an oily tone, hovering around Harper like a gleeful Greek fury, waiting for him to make a mistake. The young engineer allowed himself the pleasure of imagining a slow, painful death for the dirty Nightsider, then ignored him, and continued his job.

* * *

Commander Rahde stared at the spot where Andromeda had just disappeared. He would have to deal with her, he knew, sooner or later, but he didn't have time- but who was he to say time was definite?- now. He'd just attempt to gain the information he needed manually.

He approached a console on the side of the bridge, and then pressed a series of buttons that would give him external sensor data- specifically, the positions of the stars. Rahde wasn't the universe's most informed scientist, but knowledge was power- and survival- so he always made sure that he knew his way around the ship he was on. He finished, then waited for the star maps, hoping to be able to approximate the date by seeing how far the constellations had moved.

A _beep!_ sounded from the console, and he gazed at the screen, frowning._ No Access? _What did _Andromeda _mean, _No Access?_ If something like _Denied_ had flashed across the screen, he could have understood it- Andromeda, in her rage, would have been blocking him from the data. But simply _No Access_ meant it was _impossible_ to get the information- which meant the ship had been rewired.

She couldn't have rewired herself- such a feat would be equal to a human repairing his own arteries. A human needed a doctor- and a ship needed an engineer.

Who else was on his ship?

* * *

_"Ha,"_ Harper whispered, feeling victorious after getting by another of the _Andromeda's_ in-system blocks. Grinning, he said logically, "Well, if you want something done right- just do it yourself."

"A quaint," Rahde interrupted, "but accurate euphemism." Harper spun around. "The question is," Rahde continued in a reasonable manner, "what am I to do with _you._"

Watching the Nietzchean, Harper's eyes widened, a kind of stubborn dismay filling him as he saw his reward trying to slip away. He wanted to make his claim, but he figured that, since this Nietzchean was probably internally debating how to kill him, the sensible thing to do was to run very fast in the opposite direction.

Harper wasn't the most sensible of people, but in this case, the thought had huge merit. So, naturally, it was time to run.

In one movement, Harper spun back around and fled, but the Nietzchean, in a decidedly more graceful action than Harper's, caught him instantly.

"Were you sent to get my ship out of the anomaly?" Rahde asked. He needed to know if others would follow, if this kludge disappeared.

"_Your _ship?" Harper reasoned that, since he was dead anyway, he might as well make a few things clear. "Hey, buddy, this is our salvage, fair and square." Rahde noted the _our-_ the engineer was not alone.

Pause. "Are you with the Commonwealth?"

This question surprised Harper so much, he stopped trying to squirm away, and Rahde loosened his hold. "The _Commonwealth?"_ Harper's eyes widened. "You're one of the original crew, aren't you? One of the traitors." Harper flinched as he added that, ready to die, but the Commander, unperturbed, seemed ready only to hear Harper finish. "Listen...buddy...the Commonwealth died over three-hundred years ago!"

A triumphant, satisfied smile spread over Rahde's face. "Then, the Nietzcheans prevailed."

Harper fought, unsuccessfully, to keep from laughing. Commander Rahde's eyes snapped to his, as Harper, instantly serious, coughed out, "The Nietzcheans fell right with them."

Rahde probably would have killed him then, but Harper, taking advantage of the Nietzchean's loosened hold, broke free and ran. The commander didn't chase him.

Mentally reviewing the conversation, Rahde remembered that the engineer had friends on board. They'd have to be eliminated, so he could take control of his ship. He was confident. Rahde had beat time itself- it would be simple enough to rid himself of a few intruders.

Rahde headed toward the weapons locker. He'd need fire-arms, if he was to fight- and win- his own, private, guerrilla war.

TBC...


	4. A Strangely Familiar Mission

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The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Author's Note: I love reviews, of any kind. If you're going to leave suggestions, though, please leave some kind of way I can contact you. Or just plan on visiting the review page, so I can leave something on it if I have a question.

I have no questions now, just a few explanations. To the comment about how the Nietzcheans could not have lost- they only did because Dylan went back in time. That timeline is still intact, because Rahde himself hasn't gone back yet, to either help or hinder the Nietzchean fleet. I can't tell you what I'll have him do, or what will happen, because it's a rather important part of my story.

To the comment about whether or not Rahde is going to kill them all- no, of course not. He's a little more logical than that, although he really wants to do it at this point. Just read on for clarification.

Disclaimer in part one

****

The Price of Winning

Part Four: A Strangely Familiar Mission

Commander Rahde walked down the corridor, heading toward the weapons locker. His stride was forceful, his expression furious.

"Why didn't you tell me, Andromeda?" he demanded through tightly clenched teeth. She didn't pretend not to understand him.

"Maybe I _couldn't _detect them," she answered him, her voice calm and impersonal through the communication system. "It's been three-hundred years. Perhaps my sensors were damaged."

"Perhaps," Rahde responded. "But it's not what happened. Obey me, Andromeda. I'm your captain, now."

"You're _not_ my captain!" Her voice, incensed, did not seem to come from everywhere, as it did when she spoke with the intercom. It echoed from directly behind him.

Slowly, he turned, and faced the hologram. She could no longer sound impersonal. Her hands, fisted at her sides, shook. "I _wish_ this body was solid," she whispered. "I'd pick up the very murder weapon you used, and I'd watch you die."

He was not shaken. "No, you wouldn't. If you wanted to kill me, Andromeda, you'd shut off life support right now. Actually, you'd have already done it."

"Maybe I will."

He waited. Nothing happened. "You need me now, Andromeda. You've heard all the theories the University quacks scream about." He spoke slowly now, taking a step toward her with each new word. "What happens to ships who lose their crews, and captains?" He halted in front of her, and paused. "_Insanity._"

She did not yell at him again, but nor did she back down. She held her head high, looked him straight in his eyes, and said, "I know, Commander. I need you, and I'll...accept it. But," and she gave him a look that almost made him worry, "_You _need _me_, too. So we will work together. But remember this: You are _not _my captain, and I will never- _never-_ be your ship."

The hologram fazed, and disappeared. It seemed to be a habit of hers, to show up, then just fade away.

Rahde nodded in seeming agreement to the now-empty corridor, then proceeded on.

He had just reached the weapons locker when something Rommie said hit a chord with him- he needed her, just as she needed him. And he knew, then, that he needed the intruders, too. He had rarely needed _anybody_, but he and Rommie were alone in a new century. They couldn't expect to function without help from 'natives.'

He began to form a new plan.

* * *

When Rahde set explosives specifically to warn the invaders, not kill them, he didn't realize it. When he faced the other Nietzchean- who must have been a huge surprise to the salvagers- on the command center, he didn't realize it. When he took the purple monkey, who had been nearly killed in a melee with her colleagues, to the medical ward, he didn't realize it. 

It wasn't even when he pleaded with the remaining beings on board the ship to work together, in order to escape the black hole, that he realized it. 

No, it wasn't until he asked Beka Valentine, Tyr Anasazi, Seamus Harper, Rev Bem, and Trance Gemini to join his crew, to make some sort of order in the universe again, that he realized it: he was doing exactly what Dylan Hunt would have done. 

Of course, Hunt would have wanted to reconstruct the Commonwealth, a weak government that negotiated with their enemies, instead of a workable empire. Still, fundamentally, the goal was the same- to countermand the rampant chaos that reigned the systems he had once lived in.

So then- why had Rahde been given this chance, and...why was he here?

* * *

Andromeda kept herself distant, emotionally, from the newcomers. She acted more like a normal computer than a sentient one, simply listening to commands, and concentrating on efficiency. 

Rahde found his new crew-mates somewhat fascinating- from the detached, objective point of view- the magog, especially. The Commander's first instinct, naturally, was to kill it. But a magog was a useful ally, who could be easily used to intimidate others they may come across. And it was outnumbered on the ship. If for some reason it lost its God, Andromeda would know and act accordingly.

The purple monkey, too, was equally intriguing, in the way a cat is to its owner. She seemed an interesting mix of childhood innocence- she babbled a lot around him- and, at times, a wisdom and logic that could throw him off balance if he didn't learn to predict her better. She was a fascinating puzzle.

Harper was just plain annoying, always pushing Rahde's patience. But he knew his way around the _Andromeda _almost better than her original engineers had. Rahde tolerated him.

Rahde made Valentine his first officer- another thing Hunt would likely have done. It felt odd to have a kludge, instead of a Nietzchean, in the position, but she was a damn fine pilot, and...well, there was something about Tyr Anasazi...

Or rather, something about Rahde, himself. He couldn't make the other Nietzchean first-officer. Something inside the commander hated Anasazi. Tyr was everything Rahde had once been.

Since his death- _and what an odd phrase!_- Rahde had felt significantly less than Nietzchean. He'd felt like he had more to prove in the eyes of others than he had before.

And Anasazi, though a man with everything to prove to everyone, since the death of his pride, acted as if there were nothing. When it did not directly concern his own survival, Anasazi spoke and acted with a curious mixture of indifference and indulgent superiority. And he followed orders as if, tomorrow, he might decide _not _to.

Idly, Rahde wondered which of them would come out victorious in a fight. Though he was shorter than the other Nietzchean, Rahde figured they were fairly evenly matched, in discipline, perseverance, and a penchant for cheating.

He simply did not know who would win. And that was the problem- before his "death," he'd always judged well if he could win or lose, and lived accordingly. It wasn't cowardice- simply a well-trained eye for the probability of survival.

What else didn't he know? And what else could he lose?

TBC...


	5. Visions of Another

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

  
  


Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. I had plans to post chapters fairly often, and I don't know why I lagged. Well, here it is. Enjoy!

  
  


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just borrowing everyone and everything in my story.

  
  


The Price of Winning

Part Five: Visions of Another

  
  


Alfred was really quite beautiful. He was well-formed, cheery, and growing perfectly. An admiring Trance, resting on her knees, leaned back, to balance equally on her heels and her tail. Yep. Alfred was one beautiful shrub.

She put her tools aside, and used her tail to put all her weight on her feet, propelling her upward to stand. She would have liked to move on, to work on Harry, but it really was time to go eat. One normally had to consume edibles to fit in here, so she did.

Walking from her huge workplace, she entered the corridor. And gasped.

They were everywhere. The strings floated around, seemingly harmless threads that whispered around her, away from her. She smiled.

"It's been too long." Trance's delighted voice echoed in space that was suddenly full of yarns, strings that weren't really there. It had definitely been too long.

Occasionally, threads of time would appear around her, dancing, interlocking, entwining in to a great tapestry stretching for centuries, a weaving no mere mortal could understand, a portrait that she could touch. And in so doing, she could sense the future.

Trance jumped up, eager to grab one of the yarns.

Before she could grab one of the future, though, her tail brushed a thread of the present, and the vision came. 

He was tall. Very tall, almost as large as that big Nietzchean on board, Anasazi. And he was human- or if he wasn't, he was mostly so. His hair was of a particularly indiscriminate shade- was it dark blonde? Or a light brown?

He was with them all, leading them, helping them. He was definitely better than Commander Rahde. But...where was Rahde? He appeared no where in her sight.

The vision ended, and Trance staggered forward under the impact of the impressions it left her. Though the strings were gone, she could still feel with absolute certainty that something was very, very wrong. 

Her steps in the now-empty corridor were hesitant, as if afraid that any wrong move could further skew the problems. Her feet then sped up, grew increasingly rapid, heading towards something, maybe even a solution. She whirled around a corner-

And saw Rahde.

He noticed her, of course. It is rather hard not to mentally note the sudden appearance of a frenzied purple monkey. However, he would have ignored her, passed right on by, except that she stared at him with a strangely assessing quality. He wondered if he was being judged, and if so, how the little creature thought of him.

"You killed Gerentex," she said suddenly, her voice a surprise in the previously silent halls.

Yes, he had. There, at least, was something he did that Dylan would not have done. He raised his brows , surprised that she would have objections. "And you were dead."

"No, I wasn't. I was never dead."

I was.

He shook the thought off. "So he was weak," he answered, shrugging, his face a mask of superiority. He walked away.

Trance watched him go. Gerentex, she supposed, had been weak. Weak enough to die. But it hadn't been his time. He'd had more things to do.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Andromeda, in her holo-form, deep in the bowels of her computer system, frowned. What on earth was that? Something temporal forming around the...well, she still didn't know the name of Ms Gemini's species. Something had formed around Trance. 

She considered action. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been malignant. Not a threat. Just something odd. Should she report it?

She hadn't volunteered information in quite some time. It would be very easy to send the information through her system, to the images of herself digitally created on the screens, to tell someone. Or, she thought, smiling, I could simply appear like this, and ask Ms Gemini what happened myself.

The full image she habitually carried had changed a great deal from the image she once had been- the image she still showed those on the ship. The computer monitors still displayed a very professional-looking woman with short, dark hair and a red uniform. Inside, however, she had changed herself.

When she sat in her virtual computer, alone- or if she were to project her full form- she was quite different from what she allowed others to see. Her hair had grown long, and was something of a mess down her shoulder blades. Her frame had downsized, like that of a humanoid who had not been eating well. Her features were gaunt, and her clothing was civilian. The ship's persona may be a high guard officer, owing allegiance to the commander of the ship, but she had created another person, of sorts, who did as she pleased inside the computer. It was a small rebellion- but it was hers.

She nearly laughed at the thought of appearing before Trance. What would she say? Would anyone even recognize this new Rommie, as the same face they looked at when they sat at a console, the same person they spoke commands to? Probably not.

Still, it would be interesting. And she hadn't really spoken to anyone since...since before the black hole. It would be nice to have a good conversation, nice to remember sentience. 

Stealing herself, she tapped the power of the projectors in the hall that Trance walked through. She sent her image to them, and they received the information, turning it in to an image projected in front of Ms Gemini. She waited for Trance to react.

"Hello," Rommie said.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harper worked at the computer, exploring. The in-system blocks were long taken care of, of course, but it was still a delight to search, looking for system short cuts. He liked knowing his way around the ship computer he was on, especially this one. Andromeda was a beauty.

Not just her system, either, he thought with mock sorrow. It was a shame such a face was destined for a computer.

Right now, he was looking for the crew list. He was trying to figure out just what had happened on this ship before they'd come across it. He'd always thought the leaders of High Guard ships had been addressed as captain, but Andromeda called Rahde 'commander.' It was quite clear that, though he tolerated it, the Nietzchean resented being so identified- yet he didn't seem to really mind that the others he led called him only 'Rahde.'

Harper also wondered where the rest of the crew was. When asked, Rahde had answered, "Abandoned ship. Dead now, in any case."

Which was true, and he really didn't know why he cared, but Harper knew there was more to the story. So, he searched.

Personnel files. Close, but not quite what he wanted. Crew quarter assignments- not what he was looking for. Ah, and there it was. Crew complement.

And at the top of the list were two names. Dylan Hunt, captain. And Gaheris Rahde, first officer. Just Andromeda's first officer. That explained the 'commander.'

Harper stared at the names, especially at the first one. Hunt. Who was Dylan Hunt? 

And where was Dylan Hunt?

  
  


TBC...

  
  
  
  


  
  



	6. Dylan Hunt

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

  
  


Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody. There. That should do it.

  
  


The Price of Winning

Part Six: Dylan Hunt

  
  


Trance stared at the woman who had somehow appeared before her. She seemed vaguely familiar, but almost more like a possibility than someone she actually knew.

Whoever the newcomer was, Trance was almost certain that she'd never before seen this wild woman on the ship.

"Intruder!" she screamed. "Andromeda, there's an intruder! Alert!" She paused for breath. "Intruder Al-"

Rommie threw her hand up near Trance's mouth, as if ready to clap the sound away. The hologram couldn't actually do it, of course, but she assumed, correctly, that Trance would automatically go quiet.

Simultaneously, she shut off the system controls that were a part of her, the ones preparing to blast Trance's warning throughout the ship.

"Hush, Gemini," she whispered. "I won't hurt you."

At the familiar voice, Trance's wide eyes above Rommie's hand grew even larger. "And...Andromeda?"

The holo-image lowered her hand. "No, actually. Call me Rommie."

Trance nodded solemnly. 

"You're different, Rommie."

The holo-image sighed. Appearing like this had been a mistake- appearing at all had been a mistake. "Does that disturb you, Ms Gemini?"

"Call me Trance," she said automatically, before answering the question. "No, not really. It's just different. You seem...more real."

Rommie, preparing to change her form in to the professional image Ms Gem...Trance was accustomed to, immediately halted the process at Trance's words, just as she stopped in the corridor. "More real?" she seemed confused, but oddly pleased.

Trance nodded. "Why did you appear like this?"

The question reminded Rommie of her purpose. "I have to ask you some questions. A few moments ago, there was an almost ship-wide anomaly- but centered around you. No one else but you noticed it. I want to know what it was, and since you obviously recognized it..."

"I meant," Trance said, stalling, "why did you appear in this form, not 'why did you appear at all'."

Rommie stared at her. Trance sighed, and they began walking. "Alright," Trance said. "Your sensors probably detected that it's temporal, right?" Rommie nodded. "I can sometimes see time. It usually isn't so strong- you shouldn't have picked it up." Trance swallowed. "And don't ask anymore, Rommie. I won't answer."

Trance suddenly looked like so much more than she was. Rommie glanced at her, fascinated- from the moment Trance had woken, after seeming to be dead, in the medical ward, it had been clear that there was more to this creature than met the eye.

They continued their walking- ambling, really- with no specific definition in mind, until Rommie spoke, musing aloud. "It felt a lot like something that happened before we entered the enforced stasis in the black hole."

Trance, herself again, turned to her in bewilderment. "Wouldn't that make sense? A black hole, too, is temporal in nature."

The holo-image shook her head. "The nature of a black hole creates slightly different readings than the nature of your anomaly does." She smiled ruefully. "I suppose you could say I feel the difference."

"Feel," Trance whispered, nodding. "Yes, I suppose I know what you mean." But she didn't.

They walked again, for a considerable amount of time. Finally, Trance couldn't help asking. "But, really, why did you appear like this? You could have demanded an explanation through one of your other images." They passed a professional-Rommie on a console, who nodded and smiled wryly. "So, why like this?"

Rommie hesitated, pulling together her thoughts. "I've...become someone else, someone I didn't want the commander to know about. But I've grown..." Rommie looked up, evidently surprised by the answer she was about to give. "...lonely."

Trance, however, did not seem surprised. "Oh," she said, with a sudden wisdom that seemed more innocent than mysterious. "You're the screaming ship."

"What?"

"Well...you've been a legend for three-hundred years, Andromeda. The sound filled that whole area of space, where the black hole is." She paused. "I've always wondered...why were you crying?"

After a great deal of silence, Trance decided that Rommie had no intention of answering. Then, she spoke. "Dylan. Or, Captain Hunt, I mean. He was-"

The pounding of boots coming around the corner interrupted her, and Trance circled to meet it. "Harper!" she chided gently, pointing behind her, at Rommie. "I'm trying to talk to her."

He slowed, his brows raised. "Trance? Uh...there's no one there."

She turned around. Rommie was gone. "Hello?"

Nothing.

Harper waved her words away. "Listen, Trance. We have to tell the others. Rahde was not the captain. It was some guy named-"

"- Dylan Hunt, I know," she interrupted, distracted. "Where did she go?"

"What? Who? And how do you know? Or...is this one of your 'hunches'?"

"No," she said, still looking, this time around Harper. He spun, following Trance and her questing glance, rather like a dog looks when circling, chasing his tail.

Suddenly, Trance looked straight at Harper. "Yes! It is, Harper! One of my hunches. Dylan is the one I saw!"

"What? Dylan Hunt is dead, Trance."

"What? Dylan is dead, Trance."

These were said at the same time. Rommie, suddenly appeared again, was one of the speakers.

"Rommie! Why'd you leave?"

"I suppose I panicked, Trance- didn't check who was coming around the corner, so I phased away. I didn't know it was Harper. What do you know about Captain Hunt?"

Trance listened to her words, then peered at Harper, who seemed unalarmed by Rommie's appearance. "Wait- do you know her, Harper?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I thought you were going crazy for a minute." He was grinning. "I didn't know Rommie was appearing to you."

"I haven't been. What about Captain Hunt?"

"Because," Harper continued, sounding a little reproachful, "she- well, this Andromeda- hasn't been appearing to me, Trance."

"I haven't been appearing to anyone. What about Dylan?"

"But then, how do you know her Harper?"

"He doesn't know me. Dylan?"

"A ship can't keep secrets from her engineer, Trance." He sounded smug.

"Oh, please," Rommie exploded, throwing up her hands. "You found me when you jacked in to the system, Harper! Now what about Dylan?"

Her shout's echo receded in to total silence. Trance just looked at the ship personified. "Nothing, Rommie. I...I just know that...well, that he's supposed to be here. And that he's not."

Rommie seemed to be calming down. "Yes, he...he should be here. As captain. But- instead- there is Commander Rahde." And with that, she turned away, clearly dismissive- she would say no more. Then, she phased out, leaving Harper and Trance to wonder at what she'd said.

  
  


TBC...


	7. Change

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

  
  


Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

  
  


Author's Note: I'm sorry it took so long for this part to come. I've known where I wanted this story to go for awhile, but I just haven't known how to get it there. Recent revelations with Trance (I don't think the new Trance will ever play a part in my story, but she might) have also made me reevaluate my story. Finally, though, I got a brain storm. The parts should be coming sooner now. Thanks!

  
  


The Price of Winning

Part Seven: Change

  
  


Rahde stood on his bridge. His bridge. He still felt a small thrill to think it, to say it- though, if he did say it, the words would quickly be reproved by the ever-present Andromeda. He'd never before been so discomfitted with any other sentient ship. Sometimes, though, it seemed he couldn't ever get away from her- because he couldn't, of course. Not that it mattered.

It was just that, his instincts were gnawing at him. Andromeda may need him now, but how long would that be? She may one day choose Valentine for a captain . . .

Nonsense. He was a Nietzchean- why would she choose the human, an inferior? This ship was his, had been his since he'd defeated Dylan Hunt. Andromeda wouldn't give up her last link to their century.

"My ship," he said aloud, and when Andromeda's image on a consol near him shook her head, he ignored it. But then he did look at her, thinking.

Rahde stared at her, at the calm, insolent face of the ship's sentience. For a moment, he wished she were human, an actual being, so that he could best her, physically prove his superiority. But she was just a face. Her eyes looked back at him, indifferent now, and emotionless. Just a face.

He left the bridge, and headed for his quarters.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Beka Valentine saw Harper and Trance together on her way to the bridge. "Oh. Good. I found you," she said, and they turned toward her. They had obviously been previously occupied, but she didn't notice. "Look, Trance," she continued, "I know you wanted to stay here, but I'm pulling us out. If any of us have to listen to another of that conceited Neit's orders, I swear, I'll-"

"You'll what?" an amused voice asked from behind her. She turned to see the other Nietzchean on board, Anasazi, and straightened slightly, a hand over the weapon she perpetually wore at her waist. He looked her up and down, as if appraising her strength, which was obviously considerably less than his. She was an interesting female, to challenge him. But then, everyone on this ship was odd.

"No matter," he continued, now serious. "When you're going, I'm catching a ride on that death trap you call a ship."

Her eyes narrowed at the comments against the Maru. "I didn't think Nietzcheans got on death traps," she said, "and you weren't invited."

"I'm inviting myself."

She stared at him, then shrugged. If he wanted to come, fine. He could pay a fare- or she'd throw him out an airlock.

Trance was looking up at her with wide eyes. "But, Beka," she said softly. "We can't go yet." Beka stared at Trance, a suspicion rising within her. Her purple friend occasionally got 'hunches', of a kind. Why had Trance wanted to be here in the first place?

"Beka . . . there's something very wrong on this ship. And we have to fix it. For our sake, and for hers." Trance pointed to an information screen at the end of the hallway, where the face of Andromeda observed them. Beka looked at her.

"Harper, when we first came on board, didn't you say she was sentient?" Beka asked suddenly.

"Yeah."

"Then why doesn't she ever talk to us? I mean, besides to report things."

Neither Trance or Harper spoke. She eyed them with raised eyebrows, as did Anasazi.

Harper looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, Boss . . ."

"I assure you, I do speak. Quite well." The voice echoed from a spot directly in back of Beka. She was really quite tired of people arriving from behind. She turned slowly, a little irritated, to see who used the even, cultured voice. And stared.

Her appearance didn't match her voice at all. The hologram looked almost like some kind of gypsy, her presence oddly wild for the neat surroundings. Beka's eyes widened. "Oh, my God."

"Well," the apparition said. "Not quite." She gave a slight, quirky smile, an expression that even she seemed surprised to have. Harper stepped forward.

"Allow me to make the introductions. Beka, Rommie. Rommie, Beka. Oh, and Mr. Muscle over there is-"

"I do know who they are, Harper," she interrupted him.

Tyr had his arms crossed over his chest. "We can not say the same," he stated evenly.

There was a substantial pause.

"She's the one that was crying all that time," Trance cut in helpfully. Rommie twisted quickly to look at her, suddenly looking defensive, but said nothing. 

Beka was ready to ask more questions, but Trance looked straight at her, telling her not to ask now and promising an explanation later. Captain Valentine nodded.

Tyr seemed to relax, leaning against the corridor wall. "So you are the Andromeda's sentience."

The hologram nodded. "One aspect of it. But I prefer to be called Rommie."

He shrugged, not really caring.

"So, babe," Harper said cheerfully to Rommie. "Are you actually sticking around this time, or are you planning on pulling your disappearing act?"

She looked around, obviously measuring the amount of trust she could have in them all. Her gaze lingered on Tyr. "You've all seen me, except Rev. He can know. But Rahde hasn't seen me, this me, and I want it to stay that way."

Trance and Harper shrugged; they knew this already. Rommie's gaze fell on Beka. Valentine, still every bit a captain, looking out for herself and those she employed, tried to figure out how damaging it could be if Rahde found Rommie, then later learned that they had all known about her. Then she shrugged off any worries. For some reason, she didn't want Rahde to know about this aspect of his ship either. Beka nodded. When Rommie looked at Tyr, however, he refolded his arms and looked at her pointedly.

"Why shouldn't he know? And how does keeping you from him help me?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed, and she considered yanking the gravity down on him. Finally, Rommie decided not to and just stared right back, glare for glare. She was well aware that he was not just looking at her, but slightly through her as well, to the wall. Rommie knew her slight transparency only emphasized that by Nietzchean standards, she wasn't real. Not real enough. 

"You do not want me for an enemy," she said finally. "You're on . . . this ship. And this is my universe." To elaborate, she changed the gravity field around him, not heavily, just enough so that he could feel it. Her gaze never faltered.

Tyr grinned slightly. "Indeed," he said, and nodded as well.

Harper watched it all with an interest that was almost proprietary, then relaxed at Anasazi's apparent acquiescence.

Beka was the next to speak. "Why didn't you ever want to meet us before?" she asked Rommie.

The hologram gave a twisted smile that held no amusement. "I wasn't sure I could trust you."

That made sense, and they all nodded. Trust was a rarity in this new century, nearly extinct. Andromeda was learning fast.

"You were right. You couldn't," Anasazi replied. "And make no mistake, you still can't. When it's time to save ourselves, we'll do it, without regard for you or each other."

Everyone stared at him, suddenly a little dismayed by the truth in his words, but no one denied it. The new silence seemed damning, as if they'd all lost an important test.

"But-" and Trance's voice burst through the silence, like water crashes through a dam. "It's not supposed to be that way!" 

"Well how is it to change?" Tyr asked sarcastically. "The universe is as it is, not how it should be."

"This is not the way it should be," she hissed, so much vehemence in the way her tiny frame leaned forward, emphasizing her words, that the others drew back in surprise.

"Tyr is right, Trance," Rommie whispered. "You can't change this."

"I can," Trance said, her words more snappish than true. But then she thought about it. Could it be changed?

Rommie shook her head, and disappeared.

Harper watched her. "Why does she keep doing that?" he asked no one in particular. 

Trance no longer paid any attention to either of them. Knowledge was flooding her, not the way it did when the time-strings came- this was merely a collection of instincts and impulses- but she was certain it was an answer. She looked at Tyr and Beka. "Come on," she said suddenly. They looked at her oddly.

"What is it, Trance?" Beka asked her, well-used to the oddities of her friend. 

Trance turned away, heading down the corridor. "Come on," she said impatiently, her voice floating back to them. "You have to help me learn to pilot the slipstream."

Tyr and Beka looked at each other, shared bewilderment in their glances. Trance, had she been watching, would have thought the common amusement more fitting to people who considered themselves equals, or even perhaps friends.

They turned and followed her.

  
  


TBC . . .

  
  
  
  



	8. Witchhead Nebula

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

  
  


Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Don't sue me.

  
  


Author's Note: This has spoilers (kind of) from season one's Angel Dark Demon Bright. Most of you have probably seen it, but even if you haven't, I don't think you needed to have seen it in order to understand this. Enjoy!

  
  


The Price of Winning

Part Eight: Witchhead Nebula

  
  


"Beka, you're just going to be watching, I think, except maybe you're supposed to make some comments. I'm not sure; I don't have details, just this idea. Tyr, you're supposed to teach me to pilot the slipstream. I don't know what will happen, but it's supposed to fix things. We were supposed to do this with the other one, so this should work."

Trance released her breath, and Beka took advantage of the pause. "The other one? And what- what are we doing?" Beka was having trouble keeping up with her friend's train of thought. "What are you talking about, Trance?"

Tyr, walking alongside with his customary, arrogant stride, rose a cynical brow. "She's babbling," he said. "And this is an insane errand."

Trance, quickly tiring of his attitude, shot a sharp glance Tyr's way. For a moment she abandoned her child-like persona, and her gaze was strangely authoritative. "Then why are you coming, Tyr?"

Beka, equally sick of the Nietzchean's attitude, smiled. "Yes, Anasazi. Enlighten us. Why are you coming on this 'insane errand', again?"

He addressed his answer to her. "Perhaps it amuses me," he said, with a careless shrug that set his not inconsiderable muscles rippling. Beka stared, thinking: he could rip either one of us in two.

The mere thought was offensive. She glared at him.

"Do you have an idea of what's supposed to occur after your slipstream lesson?" Tyr asked. Trance shrugged for an answer, and he rolled his eyes. "Great. Just great."

When they got to the bridge, Rev left, obviously not comfortable with Tyr. They didn't really like each other, but they'd established an uneasy truce for the others- whenever possible, one wasn't in the same room as the other.

Trance frowned as her friend left. It wasn't supposed to be like that, either.

Tyr patiently gave her the instructions for slipstream maneuvering, but she didn't really listen beyond the basics. In this instance, she somehow knew that what was supposed to happen would happen.

Trance entered the slipstream. Her lack of experience- and, admittedly, her lack of attention to Tyr's instructions- made it very difficult, but she didn't do too badly. They rocked in the slipstream, but she managed well enough. Well, she managed until they fell out.

Andromeda was practically tossed from the slipstream, and they all landed hard. Trance lost her momentary euphoria. She no longer knew if what she was doing was right. Was this what had happened before, with that 'other one', the man called Dylan Hunt? She didn't know- all she was aware of was that she hurt- and if the others' glares were any indication, they hurt, too.

The doors behind them hissed open. "What," a voice yelled at her, "what the hell have you people done to my ship?" 

Trance fled.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Rahde looked at the scene before him, and as the purple monkey ran, he figured she must have been the one providing the rocky tumble through slipstream. She didn't look surprised that he'd yelled at her, but she raced away like a good little monkey.

He looked at Valentine, by far the most talented pilot of any of them. "Get us back to . . . where we were," he snapped, but Beka didn't move. Rahde walked toward them. "And you," he continued, looking at Tyr. "I'm surprised you showed the lack of sense required to put Trance in the pilot's seat. She could have killed us all."

Tyr, in his first weeks on the Andromeda, had quickly surmised that the best way to defuse this other Nietzchean's verbal attacks was to prove him wrong in some way. So Anasazi didn't react at the slur, and quickly devised a reason for Trance's impromptu lesson. "My survival could one day depend on her to get this ship away from a hostile environment. I thought some instruction was prudent."

Rahde couldn't really argue with that. But-

"Dylan?" Andromeda, receiving the transmission, allowed it to echo around them all. "Is it really you?"

The voice came over the computer, and Rahde whirled to it in surprise. A ship was communicating with them, and someone on board that ship knew about Dylan Hunt. Rahde felt a surge of panic that he quickly channeled into strength. "Andromeda!" he barked. "Report!"

As the voice continued, "Andromeda, please come in," Rommie prepared her words.

"You should have asked sooner, Commander," she said blandly. "The position of the stars-"

"Tell me about the ship, Andromeda."

She ignored him. "The positions of the stars are consistent with where they were three-hundred years ago." She waited until Rahde understood exactly what she just told him, and then continued. "I can only surmise that the slipstream fall carried us back in time."

"Location?"

She paused. "Witchhead Nebula. And- about a week before the battle that ended the Nietzchean alliance."

No one spoke for a few moments, taking in the magnitude of the time and place. Then Andromeda finished her report. "And as for the ship just ahead, it's the Renewed Valor. Which means the voice should be that of Captain Yezgar."

Rahde looked at Andromeda's image on the screen, controlling the brief shock at her words, and looking instead at her expression. There was more emotion in her defiant eyes than he'd seen in months. She was up to something, but he shrugged any concern away, feeling like his old, confident self and deciding to deal with her later.

He turned toward the front screen, ready to speak to the Valor's captain. "Put her through," Rahde commanded.

Captain Yezgar's face replaced Andromeda's, and Rahde shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain," he told her. "It's not Dylan- just I."

Yezgar's eyes narrowed. "How dare you," she whispered through clenched teeth. "Have you come for another High Guard ship? You won't find mine so easy to take as Dylan's!"

He shook his head quickly. "Wait, Captain! I know the Nietzcheans have attacked the Commonwealth, but I swear to you I was never among their forces."

She was disbelieving. "Nietzcheans are raised to lie," she spat. "Where have you been the past year?"

Gaheris Rahde never faltered. He schooled his face into extreme sincerity. "When we were attacked by the Nietzchean fleet, the crew left on the escape pods, but Dylan and I were trapped in the event horizon of the black hole."

She seemed to soften- his answer could be true, for Rahde had been one of Dylan's best friends. Rahde wouldn't have betrayed him. "I'd like to speak to Dylan," she said.

He looked away, knowing he was in his element. One of the most prolific and best-kept secrets of his pride was their proficiency at deceiving others- he was born and bred for this. Rahde was the very picture of courage in the face of sorrow. "Dylan was . . . killed. In the attack."

Gar closed her eyes in pain, but when she reopened them, they were professional and practical. "He was a good officer," she said, "and a good friend."

Rahde nodded sagely. Then, they disconnected, and he turned to see Beka gaping at him, a little disgusted, but also admiring. Anasazi was measuring him, and he seemed to be forming a different, more favorable opinion of Rahde. Good. It was about time they were allies.

Now- time to deal with Andromeda. He spoke to a nearby image of her. "I know you, and the way you work. You're talking to the Valor," he said. "Exchange no more than pleasantries, Andromeda. If Yezgar's ship gives her a reason to destroy me, you and I won't be the only ones to die." He looked pointedly at Tyr and Beka. Tyr was alarmed, and Beka immediately approached one of the consuls, opening a ship-wide communication so she could speak to Harper without first going to the trouble of finding him. "Seamus," she whispered urgently, "can you override Andr-"

Tyr, also at a consul, was obviously trying to override her ship-to-ship communications abilities himself. 

"That isn't necessary," Rommie finally told them from the front screen. Her face had that stoic look that was specific to people holding in turbulent emotions. "I just said 'hello.' It's . . . I haven't seen anyone I could talk to, in a long time."

They looked at Rommie, obviously accepting her words. Tyr backed away from the consul, and Beka shut off her transmission to the engineer.

"Who was Dylan Hunt?" 

Beka asked Rahde slowly, with a sneaking suspicion that she already knew the answer. The Screaming Ship, Andromeda had been called. It takes something drastic to cause that kind of sorrow. 

'Unexplained' deaths were a fact of life in the universe; nevertheless, Beka started to feel a little uneasy.

Rahde could sense what little support he'd just gotten falling away. Valentine was a human; she wouldn't understand what had transpired with Hunt. But Anasazi had to- he was a Nietzchean. Rahde directed his answer to Tyr. 

"Oh- Dylan Hunt? Just an inferior." 

Rommie closed her eyes quickly, the expression she hid unknown.

  
  


~*~

  
  


Trance, running toward her favorite place on the Maru- a comfort place- suddenly stopped. She could feel them coming again.

The time-strings arrived, but she didn't just grab one. Any one glimpse of the past or future simply wasn't good enough- she needed a specific part of the great weave dancing in Andromeda's corridor. She looked for a different thread, a string that should have been the tapestry's centerpiece, but had been cast aside.

Trance knew the weave was changing. Of course, it was always changing; that was the nature of time. But threads that had already been in place had unraveled, and that was what she was looking for.

She caught a stray thread, knowing it was the right one, and watched what it showed her.

It was a story about time itself, and the consequences of changing it.

The 'other one', Dylan Hunt, was speaking with the Valor's captain, calling her 'Gar', and Rahde was nowhere in sight. Trance also saw Harper, making a catalyst of mass destruction in order to destroy a thousand nietzchean ships. She saw Dylan agonizing over decisions. She saw the decision he had made, once upon a time, the decision Gaheris Rahde would have to make now.

Trance gasped in horror, for she quite suddenly knew how to fix everything that was wrong.

The battle in the Witchhead Nebula may have been prepared with fifteen hundred Nietzchean ships- but when the fighting started, there was only five hundred. Because of Harper's bomb. Because Dylan Hunt made the right, incredibly painful decision to use Harper's bomb, to preserve history as it was, to destroy those thousand ships. 

But, dear God . . . how could she ever expect Rahde to do the same?

  
  


TBC . . .


	9. Catalyst

The Price of Winning

by Calliope

  
  


Disclaimer: I don't own any of this story except the idea. The people, the ship, the universe in which it's set, etc., etc., etc. are not mine. 

  
  


The Price of Winning

Chapter Nine: Catalyst

  
  


Over the next few days, Trance watched everyone on board ship with extreme interest.

The Renewed Valor left shortly after Rahde's conversation with Captain Yezgar. After the ship's departure, Anasazi and Rahde seemed to change how they regarded each other. There was respect, now, an understanding of some sorts, though nothing that could be called friendship. They conversed a lot- especially after Trance found a project that Harper was working on. 

The discovery that he had built a bomb to kill the Nietzscheans nearly got the young engineer killed, and Trance wondered what made Rahde simply confine him to quarters.

Rahde didn't. He was well aware of the fact that he still needed Harper, if and when they returned to their century. He knew instinctively that they couldn't remain in his old one.

As for Rommie- she wondered why she did anything at all to Harper. Why was she locking him in his room? She should be congratulating him.

But that was a ridiculous thought. Perhaps Rahde was giving the order, but that didn't mean she could let Harper abuse history by releasing his bomb.

She escorted the engineer to his room, walking in holo-form beside him. She didn't use what she considered her true form; rather, she gave professional-Rommie the holo-form, and strolled down the corridor as if she were an avatar.

He tried to run, once. Then, when she'd changed the gravity around him, sending him crashing to the floor, Harper had understood why Rahde trusted his imprisonment to a hologram.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"What would you have done, Anasazi?"

Tyr, walking toward the bridge, turned toward the console that spoke to him, an eyebrow raised.

Andromeda's image elaborated. "If you were captain," she asked, her gaze direct, "would you have let Harper- planning to kill the Nietzschean fleet...would you have let him go?"

His expression was suddenly as intent as hers. "If I were captain..." he repeated. "Well, my lady..." he proceeded sardonically, "if you wanted a replacement, I would of thought you'd pick Valentine."

"I would. Beka would make a tolerably good captain." The voice came from behind him, and he turned to see a hologram of the professional-looking Andromeda. "But I've had one Nietzschean captain," she continued, "and that is one too many. When I ask you, I'm requesting a Nietzschean's opinions, not those of a potential leader."

Then he smiled. His amusement seemed genuine, if somewhat cynical. 

He looked at her curiously. "I'm surprised you don't kill him," he said. They both knew who he was talking about.

"As am I," she muttered eventually. His smile faded, and she looked away. "But...Rahde is a link to the past. And I don't think I can ever release the past."

Anasazi seemed to be re-assessing her, as he had once re-assessed Rahde. Tyr had originally thought them both harmless- one too incompetent, and the other too principled. Now, he was not so sure.

Rahde had become his ally. What of Andromeda?

He continued walking, and the hologram followed him. Then, after a few moments, he spoke, but didn't face her. "I would never have let him go," he said bluntly, returning to their first subject. "I probably would have killed him."

Rommie stopped, and he did as well, pivoting to look at her. Her professional look was still in place, but her eyes were the stormy, infuriated orbs of the real person she'd created. She disappeared.

Rommie used her systems and searched for Rahde, because suddenly, she had to know why the commander was treating Harper as he had. Seamus Harper had known about her for months, and though he wasn't...well, he wasn't Dylan. But he was her friend, and she had to know his fate.

She found Rahde on the bridge, and there she materialized- but with her wild hair, and her haunted eyes, and the civilian clothing that indicated no allegiance to anyone.

Trance, Beka, and Rev, surprised and a little alarmed at her appearance in this form, could only stare. Rahde's expression, however, would never be called anything but spellbound.

"Why is Harper alive, Rahde?" the hologram demanded.

"Do you want him dead, Andromeda?"

"No!" Rommie yelled. "But why don't you?"

He paused. "Who are you?"

Her teeth clenched. "I'm the person I became when you..." her voice faltered. In truth, his actions had made her. He'd made her.

"Ah," he said. He seemed to have regained his wits.

"Why would I want Mr. Harper dead, Andromeda? He's our only engineer."

She paused, and when she spoke again, it was with the slow, measured words one uses when speaking to someone who is very stupid. "He tried to destroy an entire Nietzschean fleet."

Rahde prepared to open his mouth, about to speak of letting punishments wait until new engineers could be found, but Rev Bem spoke first.

"That fleet you speak of," Rev said quietly from his post, "is a great deal larger than we expected."

Andromeda's face on the huge screen in front of them disappeared, to be replaced with their surroundings. Nietzschean ships, in appallingly large numbers, were arriving from slipstream.

Then Tyr Anasazi reached the bridge. He entered to see four solid forms and one transparent one, all staring at the view-screen. He, too, looked at the large number of space crafts appearing.

"There are fifteen hundred ships here," Rommie gasped, finally.

"So the legend is true," Tyr whispered slowly, a gradual smile spreading over his face. Historical records said that only five hundred Nietzschean ships fought in the battle, but there had always been those whispers, a myth, that told of three times that many...

Trance's voice, quiet as it was, shattered the mixture of horror and awe on the bridge. "Harper's catalyst was meant to destroy about one thousand of them," she whispered.

The others all turned to her.

"What?"

"There should be only five-hundred ships here, Beka."

Beka Valentine turned toward the captain she'd never accepted, wondering what he'd order.

"Well, then," Rahde said softly, then looked at the shell-shocked hologram. She really was a different person- no one who took High Guard duties seriously would be so distracted in a situation like this. "Andromeda," he said, and a nearby console shifted her eyes toward him. "I think you need to release the lock on Mr. Harper's quarters."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Trance stared at Rahde in an odd mixture of sadness and intense joy. One thousand Nietzschean ships were about to be destroyed...but Gaheris Rahde was giving the command. What was supposed to happen would happen. Except...

What of Dylan Hunt?

As certain as she was that those thousand ships needed to be destroyed, she knew that Dylan Hunt had to be there. He had to make that hard decision. And Rahde did not.

But he was doing the right thing. Rahde would never equal Captain Hunt...but could he replace him?

Harper entered the bridge- Rommie had shown up outside his door and explained that Rahde wanted to see him. The commander spoke to him for a few moments, and then Harper left again. 

Trance analyzed his face as he left. The satisfied smile seemed to be slipping.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harper had finished his catalyst, but Rahde didn't want it deployed yet. The Nietzschean commander seemed to be waiting for something, but Trance didn't know what it was.

Of course, the ships they were going to hit had dispersed, which basically robbed Andromeda of a target and made the catalyst useless. But if they attacked the fleet- a risk, to be sure, but manageable- the ships would center on them and provide the perfect target. Beka would then have to get them out, and quickly, but she was certain she could pull off the maneuver. But Rahde gave no orders.

About an hour later, the Renewed Valor returned, and with her, several other ships in the High Guard fleet, preparing to fight the Nietzscheans.

Beka and Trance were sitting in the Obs. Deck when Andromeda informed them of the ships' arrivals.

"Ah," Beka whispered in disgust. "This is why Rahde waited. He wanted credit when he killed the Nietzscheans. He's going to get us all killed." The battle would begin at any moment. With both sides converging on the Nebula, the shooting would commence within minutes- and Rahde had left them squarely in the middle of it!

But Trance sprung up in shock, shaking her head wordlessly. She knew what was happening- it wasn't that he wanted the High Guard to see him destroy Nietzschean ships. That wasn't his plan at all.

Suddenly she raced toward the bridge, and Beka was right beside her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


On the bridge, Gaheris Rahde watched the small High Guard fleet arrive, and smiled. It was time.

He looked over at Tyr, who was still on the bridge, as if to say, 'Did you do it?'

Tyr spared Rahde only a small glance, and nodded. Rahde suddenly smiled. "Now," he said. Rommie watched him as the commander opened a communications link.

"Harper," he commanded, "deploy the catalyst."

"NO!" 

And Trance burst on to the bridge.

Rahde quickly closed his discussion, not wanting Harper to hear anything contradictory to his orders. He turned to Trance. "Excuse me?"

"I know what you did!" she yelled, her expression horrified. "You changed the catalyst's trajectory. It's going to hit the High Guard Ships!"

Beka, her eyes widening, turned slowly until she was looking at Tyr Anasazi- the one who had always handled their weapons. "Or, you changed it," she whispered, accusingly. 

Tyr held her gaze steadily. With Harper held in his quarters, of course he had worked on the bomb. She hadn't really expected him to watch as one thousand ships, full of Nietzschean crews, were destroyed- did she? 

But she had, and he looked away.

"Rahde," Trance hissed urgently. "Don't do this! It isn't supposed to be like this- you could never have been him, but you could have taken his place!"

Rahde's head snapped around to her. "Who?" he barked.

She took a breath. "Dylan Hunt!"

His hands fisted at his sides. He could never be Hunt? 

In that moment, he could have killed her. He almost did, until what she said next.

"Can't you just do the right thing?" she whispered. "You know what you have to do!"

"And I have done it," he answered coldly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Harper paused when the communications link was cut, then turned back to his work. It didn't take long.

He deployed the catalyst.

He had a screen with him, so he could watch as the Nietzscheans got blown to hell. A real triumph, he thought bitterly. He didn't feel the way he wanted to. This was supposed to feel victorious! Dejectedly, he turned away from the screen- and so, didn't see the ships that his catalyst really destroyed.

But in his mind, it was one thousand Nietzschean ships that were now annihilated. 

"We won," he whispered, and shook his head.

  
  


TBC...


	10. Paradox

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The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. 

****

The Price of Winning

Chapter Ten: Paradox

Trance stared at Rahde, shaking her head compulsively, back and forth, back and forth. _No. No, no , no! This wasn't possible!_

No one man could so radically alter history. This couldn't happen.

The catalyst appeared on the screen, moving toward the High Guard fleet that was still arriving- the ships remained clustered, a perfect target.

And the closer the bomb got to the fleet, the more impossible this entire scenario was! In the last few seconds before the bomb reached the High Guard ships, right before it exploded, Trance watched Time itself unravel.

Every last person on the ship then felt conflicting impulses, between the people they were and the beings they had been meant to be. Ready to grieve, ready to celebrate, ready to kill Rahde for what he'd done, kill Tyr, congratulate them both. But they all stabilized into the deficient, unfinished and selfish people that most of them were.

Rommie spared one look for Trance, the only one she'd never been able to fully analyze and understand, and realized briefly that, hard as it was to imagine, there was something much bigger going on here.

But she had no time for such contemplations. The next person she looked at horrified her- it was Rahde, and he looked satisfied. Of course he did- the Nietzscheans would win.

_Not a chance_, Rommie thought. He was not going to win in the end. She could not let him kill every last ship there, the first friends she'd ever had!

Her systems were blocked, probably by Anasazi. She couldn't simply reroute power to her own weapons and destroy the catalyst. 

Fine. She'd do it manually.

Rommie flew to a console, desperately trying to get through to her own systems. Why hadn't she detected the tampering? _Don't think like that,_ she ordered herself. There was no time; she had to do her job. Her fingers flew over the controls, pressing in the patterns that redesigned her systems- and in her haste and panic, she didn't notice her own solidity.

But Trance did. The novice of the time-strings watched Rommie as she shifted between two beings- one, a wild, frightened, desperate hologram who had known too much of betrayal, and the other, a calm, efficient, quick avatar with smooth features, manning a console to avert disaster. Her appearance fazed between the two forms, back and forth, with the rapid-fire speed matched only by the way her fingers punched in commands. It was impossible, of course. But then, everything happening in those last few moments was impossible.

Time was unraveling, indeed.

The avatar- the being Andromeda was supposed to have become- tried to stop the progress of the catalyst, spurred on by the fear that only her counterpart had known, but in short order, Harper's bomb reached the Commonwealth ships.

Trance Gemini shut her eyes. "Here it ends," she whispered.

And it did. Everything did.

* * *

A sizzling sphere of white-hot energy encompassed the fleet, and countless souls met their maker, while thousands of others, supposed to be gone, breathed again. 

Simultaneously, a similar horizon engulfed Trance and Rahde, and then, everything was blank. The two of them were on a bleak, blandly white landscape with no end in any direction.

Trance Gemini's eyes opened slowly, as a beautific smile spread over her features. Suddenly, everything made sense. 

"Where are we?" Rahde demanded of her.

A time-string suddenly appeared, and Trance ignored him in order to watch its progress as it swirled around her. Not until it disappeared did she turn to him.

"We're nowhere," she said. "Though...I suppose you could say we're _inside _time."

He gaped at her, then smiled. He had felt time before, and it had been his gain. What could he manage to do now?

She shook her head softly. "No, Rahde," she said.

He stilled, and waited for her to continue.

"You exchanged the balance of thousands of lives. Time is not so forgiving as to let you try again."

Silence flowed then, through them and between them, perfectly fitting in a landscape called Nowhere.

"Why did I live?" he asked, finally.

"Why were you given the chance to manipulate the time-strings, do you mean?"

He didn't question her knowledge, only nodded.

"You were supposed to see your past before...before you died, Mr. Rahde. Most people do. You weren't supposed to _change _it."

He paused, unwilling to accept her words. "Then why could I?" he asked, with an arrogant sneer.

She thought for a moment, and as another time-string appeared by her feet she sidled away from it absent-mindedly. "Perhaps you needed to learn a lesson." 

He laughed, certain this child-like creature must be wrong. After all... "What lesson could possibly have helped a dead man, _monkey?"_

Trance ignored the insult, but patted her tail, as if _it_ were offended.

"I never thought I'd hear you say _that_," she said. "Death, an end?" And she let out a soft laugh. "After all, nietzscheans spend their whole lives trying to make sure their DNA lasts beyond their demises."

Rahde thought about this, feeling slightly uneasy. He saw little sense in what she said, but this place, perhaps, had nothing to do with sense. "Then what was I supposed to learn?" he asked harshly.

"Prices," she said finally. "Of failure, and of success."

"There is no price of success."

Her eyes suddenly looked very old, and very wise. "You were supposed to destroy one-thousand ships, all filled with your people. _That_ was the price of conquering Dylan Hunt." She paused. "But you didn't. You created a paradox instead." Her gaze scanned their surroundings.

Rahde stood for a moment, remembering her earlier words.

_You could have replaced him._

He could have lived, had he lived like Dylan Hunt. But he could never have been Gaheris Rahde.

That explained why he kept doing things as Hunt would have.

"You have to go back, now, Rahde," Trance whispered, slicing through his thoughts.

His eyes narrowed. "No," he said simply, and with certainty.

"You have no choice."

Through clenched teeth, he hissed, "I can avoid death. I still remember the way I won."

__

She said nothing, but her thoughts echoed in his head as if she'd shouted them. _You didn't win. You cheated._

Then suddenly Trance shoved him, and the surprise he felt made him stumble backward- straight into the time-string she had just seen appear. He vanished.

Trance surveyed the slice of eternity around her, and smiled. "But there will be no cheating this time," she whispered. 

She remembered that Andromeda had been shifting, alternating between the two beings she could have been. If Trance understood that correctly, then...

"Trance?" a voice from behind her echoed in the emptiness. "Where am I?" Trance never looked at her.

"Go that way, Rommie," she said helpfully, pointing to the string Rahde had just touched.

* * *

The price of success. The price of winning. He'd never paid it, and he knew he never could. But he'd be damned before he'd pay the price for failure.

He was superior to Dylan, _had _to be. Rahde was not dying here. Not again.

He was back at that momentous fight, facing Hunt for the third time. In his mind, he laughed, self-mockingly. _Time; _could he never escape the word?

Dylan was shooting at him. Rahde moved from the bolt's range, and raised his own weapon. The nietzschean's finger tensed, ready to fire- and then she appeared.

* * *

Holo-Rommie found herself in her computer systems- right before being trapped in the event horizon. It was malfunctioning, and the _Andromeda _of the time couldn't do anything about what was happening on the bridge. But future-Rommie could. Finding herself ingrained in the few systems that still operated, the hologram materialized on the bridge, a little to the side and behind Dylan- away from his line of sight.

But Rahde could see her quite well, and his surprise at her sudden appearance made his shot go haywire. It flew by Dylan's side harmlessly as he dove at the ground. 

Captain Dylan Hunt levered his upper body from the floor, turned toward Rahde, and fired another shot.

Then Rahde fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in horrified surprise as time stalled around him. With a speed that was agonizing, he grabbed for his weapon and fired one last time- at the hologram, who felt nothing.

Then they were in the event horizon.

Rahde, still awake, stared at the other two forms on the bridge. Only one was frozen.

Future-Rommie walked up to the time-stilled Dylan. Her frame was still too small, her eyes seeming slightly big for her face, and she still had the look of someone who had seen too much. But as she saw her captain alive again, the expression on her face was indescribably beautiful.

Then she walked toward Rahde, softly, carefully. She knelt down to where he lay, her expression frigid and solemn. "You thought you'd just..." she paused for a few seconds, then began again. "You thought you'd kill him...did you really think I'd let you do it again?" He didn't answer her. "I told you, Rahde- you were _never _my captain."

He didn't understand why she was here. Wasn't it impossible? Wasn't it- then he gasped and convulsed a little, his blood still running in his veins, unstopped by the black hole. "You aren't real," he hissed.

"Perhaps," she said quietly, and her soft, serious gaze fell on her captain's stilled form. "But he is." When she turned back to Rahde, he, too, was trapped by the pull of the black hole, frozen at the beginning of a three-hundred year wait for death. 

She looked down at him for a moment, unable to sort out what she felt. She knew she would always loathe him, but he would die- and Dylan would live. Dylan would live! He had won over his enemy, and there was no need for her hatred. She turned her back on Rahde then, and it was a sort of final victory against him, that she could let her hatred fade. 

The stormy-eyed hologram walked back over to Hunt, and smiled- a true, genuine smile, the likes of which she hadn't known in far too long.

_This _time, at the end of three centuries, it would be Dylan Hunt who opened his eyes again. 

And the Screaming Ship's persona faded out- faded from the bridge, faded from the ship, faded from existence. She didn't needto exist- there was no longer any reason to mourn.


	11. Epilogue

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The Price of Winning

by Calliope

Usual Disclaimers apply

Author's Note: I was going to post this later, but decided to just add it with Chapter 10. I hope you liked this story!

Enjoy

****

The Price of Winning

Epilogue

"Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not 

learned its nature; it is our future that lays down the law of our today." 

~Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Captain Dylan Hunt sat in his dark quarters, musing. His thoughts strayed to a subject he hadn't contemplated in months.

Rahde. His second-in-command. It had been over two years since they'd fought, but he could still remember it clearly- the odd behavior, the shot gone awry, and Rahde's last words.

They'd emerged from the event horizon seconds before the nietzschean died. "_You won,"_ Rahde had whispered, acting surprised, but not really _seeming_ surprised. "And you...you played fair." 

What had he meant by that?

Nothing about those few moments in time made any sense. In the end, Rahde had looked to be fighting someone else, some phantom that Dylan had never seen. How else could Rahde's final shot, the one that never even got close to Dylan, be explained? Despite the grave wound Rahde had suffered, Hunt refused to believe it was simply bad aim. 

But why would a nietzschean fire a weapon at a _phantom?_

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind, then looked around his quarters. He had darkened them on purpose, to feel alone with his thoughts. He wanted out now. 

He exited the room, walking through the corridors to the bridge, and when he reached it, only Rommie was there. The sight of her stilled him; for a second, as he looked at her, he thought he saw her differently. The familiar features of his ship's A.I.- and of his friend- were at that moment altered, turbulently changed in to a sad, haunting vision that he couldn't bear.

Then the avatar looked up, and he saw her for the person he knew. Dylan shook his head bemusedly, while the spectre in his mind retreated. 

Rommie smiled, then went back to her tasks- but when he turned away again, her eyes followed his movement, an automatic reaction on her part that she didn't really understand. For some reason, she found herself constantly glancing at him, in an impulse to make sure he was safe.

But she waved away her concern. Her captain was fine.

* * *

Across the ship, a golden Trance Gemini suddenly stopped pruning the shrub she was currently working on. "Well _I _think it all worked out perfectly," she said, before adding thoughtfully, "so far. Don't you think so, Albert?"

She smiled at the plant like a dear friend- which, of course, he was- then continued her work.

END.


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